(no subject)
I had the craziest dream last night.
Like, my dreams are pretty nutso, but this one takes the butter frosted cake. (Which was a component to a dream I had a few nights ago)
I dreamt that I was a Catholic Priest, not me at all. A male Catholic priest who was really really sick. I was in like, the infirmary, or my own cell in a monastery. I was sick and feverish, and someone came in to take care of me. He called me 8-15, which in my dream I knew was a nickname of mine, an affectionate one that referenced some verse in the bible about abstaining from something, living sparsely or something, and he propped me up against the wall, then left to go check on the priest over in the next cell, who was also sick. As I was laying there, my head resting on the wall, I was thinking about the dude in the next cell, and I was remembering how this other priest had vowed to do something, overthrow someone, kill somebody, destroy something. But this was really bad, because it was going to take _longer than his lifetime_ to do, and I was laying there, eventually, my head fell over, and I was thinking about how sick he was and I was convinced, no doubt in my mind, that he was going to achieve this plan of his, and I realized that the way he had guaranteed his success was by selling his soul to Satan, by becoming a pawn of the devil's. I also realized that in order for him to gain his full strength was for me to die. I could hear what was going on in the other room, and the man taking care of us was laughing, because apparently the other priest's appearance was absurd, and I was so scared for the poor good man taking care of us, because I knew that if he pissed off this other priest, he'd be a dead man, and I couldn't do anything or say anything, and i could just feel my heart beating faster and faster and faster, and knew I was gonna die soon, and there wasn't anything I could do about it.
It was really scary.
I have the internets + a functioning keyboard again. woohoo
Like, my dreams are pretty nutso, but this one takes the butter frosted cake. (Which was a component to a dream I had a few nights ago)
I dreamt that I was a Catholic Priest, not me at all. A male Catholic priest who was really really sick. I was in like, the infirmary, or my own cell in a monastery. I was sick and feverish, and someone came in to take care of me. He called me 8-15, which in my dream I knew was a nickname of mine, an affectionate one that referenced some verse in the bible about abstaining from something, living sparsely or something, and he propped me up against the wall, then left to go check on the priest over in the next cell, who was also sick. As I was laying there, my head resting on the wall, I was thinking about the dude in the next cell, and I was remembering how this other priest had vowed to do something, overthrow someone, kill somebody, destroy something. But this was really bad, because it was going to take _longer than his lifetime_ to do, and I was laying there, eventually, my head fell over, and I was thinking about how sick he was and I was convinced, no doubt in my mind, that he was going to achieve this plan of his, and I realized that the way he had guaranteed his success was by selling his soul to Satan, by becoming a pawn of the devil's. I also realized that in order for him to gain his full strength was for me to die. I could hear what was going on in the other room, and the man taking care of us was laughing, because apparently the other priest's appearance was absurd, and I was so scared for the poor good man taking care of us, because I knew that if he pissed off this other priest, he'd be a dead man, and I couldn't do anything or say anything, and i could just feel my heart beating faster and faster and faster, and knew I was gonna die soon, and there wasn't anything I could do about it.
It was really scary.
I have the internets + a functioning keyboard again. woohoo